Have You Been Wicked, Your Highness?
by verisimiliitude
Summary: In which Jack gives Pitch a "recreational scolding." Warnings: BSDM, Dirty talk, Dom!Jack, Sub!Pitch


**I cannot be Irene Adler, but Jack will be for me. **

**Neither my insinuations to BBC Sherlock nor RotG characters are mine.**

* * *

Jack had been acting strange all day. Firstly, he had left the warmth of he and Pitch's bed early, and secondly, he had barely spoken to Pitch when he returned. Pitch was a bit worried for the boy - had something happened? Had the Guardians confronted him suddenly? But he figured that if Jack wanted him to know, he would have told him.

So the Boogeyman just shook his head and restrained himself from pestering Jack anymore. He filled his dark day with lurking in alleys and frightening little children through windows, something he only did to keep his mind off things. It began to get dark, and Pitch thought it would be wise to head back home. He was hoping that Jack would be in an improved mood.

Pitch swept into the cavernous main hall and looked around. "Jack?" He called. No answer. Pitch sighed and made his way to his bedroom, running a hand through his hair a bit anxiously. Upon stepping through the door frame, he stopped dead.

"Hello, Pitch."

Jack was perched on the foot of the bed in a ice blue corset and matching garter belt with stockings. He was lightly holding a riding crop.

Pitch was sure his mouth was open. He did nothing to change his expression. "W-what...? Is...is this what you were...doing today?"

"A bit of payback," Jack smirked, lifting himself gracefully off the bed.

He walked the few steps over to Pitch and brushed the end of the riding crop up the V of Pitch's exposed chest, continuing up until the taller man's face was tilted up.

Jack grinned. "You're getting so flustered," he observed, watching Pitch's chest rise and fall quickly. "Who would have known that you liked to feel so _vulnerable_?"

Pitch swallowed thickly.

Jack stood on his tip-toes to whisper in Pitch's ear, "This is repayment for leaving me the other day on the floor without finishing me off."

Jack flicked the riding crop away from Pitch's neck.

"Get on the bed," Jack commanded.

Pitch didn't know what to do. So he did what seemed to be the obvious and more interesting option: he obeyed.

"Undress," Jack said, never taking his eyes off Pitch.

Pitch whimpered. Why was this such a turn-on? He was the dominant one, usually, but seeing Jack like this, and in that garter belt...

Pitch felt heat already coiling in his stomach and quickly divulged himself of his cloak and trousers.

Jack chuckled. "So eager...do you like being ordered around, Your Highness?"

Pitch nodded, spreading his legs over and letting his hand wander lower to his growing erection. With a quick move, Jack slapped the riding crop over Pitch's arm. Pitch cried out, yanking his arm back but feeling his cock twitch with need.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Jack growled, hovering over Pitch menacingly.

"No," Pitch said quietly.

"No what?" Jack asked, fisting a hand in Pitch's hair and pulling back harshly.

Pitch hissed, arching his back and biting his lip lightly. "No, sir."

"That's right," Jack said, letting Pitch's hair go. Jack then moved to a corner of the room and rummaged through a dark bag. "It seems that you'll have a hard time keeping your hands off yourself...and I don't want you to do anything until I say so."

When Jack turned, Pitch could see that Jack held rope.

"Oh, god," Pitch whispered, beginning to let his hips roll of their own accord.

"Turn over," Jack said.

Pitch quickly complied, turning himself belly-down. His breath caught in his throat when he felt his hands being roughly tied to the headboard. "No, Jack, please...don't..."

As soon as he spoke, a exquisite searing pain scorched down his back.

"Don't speak unless spoken to," Jack rasped, bringing the riding crop down on Pitch's back twice more.

Pitch moaned and began rutting against the bedsheets, trying to get any friction he could.

Jack laughed darkly. "You want to be touched that badly? You have to resort to rubbing yourself? Tell me, Pitch, what do you want me to do?"

"Let me fuck you," Pitch gasped out, burying his face in pillows.

"If anyone will be getting fucked, it will be you, darling. Such a slut to beg, though."

Jack slowly trailed the riding crop down Pitch's spine. "Again."

"Please!" Pitch wailed, bucking back into the cool leather. "Please, fuck me! Please hurt me...Jack..."

"Mm, I think I would much rather see you come without me touching you..."

"Oh gods, no, please..."

Jack cracked the riding crop over Pitch's back once more, then again, and again, until Pitch was screaming and desperately driving his hips into the mattress.

"You've been so wicked, Pitch, leaving me on the floor the other day...not finishing me off and leaving me so horny and alone...That won't ever happen again, will it? You'll finish me off like a good boy...or enjoy your punishment. Do you like being punished, you little whore?"

"Yes!" Pitch moaned, feeling himself almost about to slip over the edge.

"What would people think if they saw you like this, the Big Bad Boogeyman, brought to his knees by me, and you begging for more like the cockslut you are?"

And with a strangled groan, Pitch was coming - all over his stomach, and the sheets. He felt dizzy for a few moments, and he could not remember what his name was.

After a few seconds, and being able to catch his breath, Pitch looked out the corner of his eye at Jack. "Untie me?" he asked sweetly.

Jack was just as flushed as he was, his hair ruffled and he was breathing heavily. Jack complied, releasing Pitch's bonds and watching as Pitch rubbed his sore wrists.

Pitch began to lay down, but at that moment Jack climbed lithely onto the bed and straddled Pitch's lap. Then Pitch could feel Jack's erection through the tight panties that barely contained him.

"My turn," Jack whispered darkly. "Suck."


End file.
